by C S Marks
Nearly twenty unfortunate souls had been tethered to poles; Estle could hear some of them crying as she drew near. Three or four had been bound to each pole, and none could stand on their ruined legs. There was the smell of blood; none of these people had received any attention since they had been taken. They were filthy, terribly thirsty, and in pain—the cries of the children were especially difficult to hear. The women tried to comfort them, but they could not.
Azok appeared to be unconscious, his head lolling over with his eyes not quite closed. The sight of him wounded Azori and Estle to the heart, for though he was a rough man, a thief and a murderer, he was their kinsman and they cared for him. Azori looked into the eyes of his half-sister. “He is wounded unto death. I can take his pain away quickly,” he said, drawing forth a bright dagger from beneath his red robes.
Regrettably, Azok was destined to live just a while longer, for a group of perhaps twenty men chose that moment to address their captives. They bore sharp blades and mattocks with them, and several wore aprons of leather stained black with blood. The flies gathered in even greater numbers, drawn to the smell.
“Well, we had best get on with it,” said one in a voice that was almost cheerful. “The fresher they are, the more acceptable the meat will be. Remember, we must keep our great force well fed if we are to prevail against the Silver City.” He strode up to the first pole, where two men and two half-grown boys had been tethered. Without a word, he struck them with the mattock to render them senseless, cut them down from the pole, dragged their bodies onto a heavy, oiled canvas, and began to cut them into pieces as their friends and family stood aghast.
To the horror of Azori, Estle, and Gaelen, the men moved from pole to pole, first bludgeoning and then dismembering their shivering captives, all the while commenting on the quality of the meat that each would provide. The screams of the terrified children were almost too much to bear, and the smell of blood and the buzzing flies sickened poor Estle. She became very pale and unsteady on her feet as she struggled with herself. Her throat had closed and was now wide open, her gorge threatening to rise at any moment. Saliva filled her mouth, and she swallowed hard, trying to gain control.
Gaelen gripped her arm. “Steady, proud maiden of the Ravani...turn away from the spectacle if you must.” The genuine concern in Gaelen’s voice, together with the shared horror in her eyes, brought Estle back to her present situation. They could not afford this squeamishness now. To her relief, Gaelen saw the life coming back into Estle’s eyes. “Well done,” she whispered, squeezing Estle’s arm. “Now you must steel yourself, for your friends are next in line for the bludgeon.”
The butchers walked up to the pole where the bandits were tied. For the first time, Gaelen noticed that Ikari was not among them, nor had they found his body in the desert. She wondered what had become of him.
One of the sutherlings began pleading for his life. “Please, fearful menace, be merciful! I am a worthy warrior, and I can aid you. Only let me live, and I will serve your cause until the end of my days.” Gaelen couldn’t blame him, though she was strongly reminded of Sajid.
“Keep quiet,” growled the butcher. “Your cries will not aid you. It’s obvious that our captains have deemed you unworthy, or they would not have ordered your fettering. You will never move upon your own legs again, and I’m afraid we have little use for a warrior that must crawl into battle.” His fellows laughed cruelly as the butcher raised his mattock.
Azok had been roused by the screaming of his fellow captives, and he was now listening with some interest despite his pain. He knew his time had come.
“No…no...do not kill me!” cried the sutherling. “What if I were to tell you that I have information of interest to you? I…I can lead you to the rest of our party, and they have gold…lots of it!”
The butcher hesitated for just a moment, and Gaelen’s heart leapt into her mouth. This man was on the verge of betraying them all! She drew her own blade, hoping that Azori could explain her actions, but Azok saved her the trouble. His hands were tied behind the other man’s head, and he snarled, grabbing the sutherling first by the hair and then by the throat, crushing it with the last of his strength. The sutherling’s life ended, and the angry butcher then turned his mattock upon Azok, bashing his skull in with several lethal blows.
Azori looked into his brother’s fading eyes, seeing no sign that he had been recognized, before the three of them turned from the spectacle and made their way back. Azori and Estle kept their eyes downcast so as not to call attention to their tears.
When Azori, Estle, and Gaelen had gained enough distance from the encampment, they removed their foul garments and made their way back to the horses, who thankfully had not strayed. By now it was mid-day, and all were hot and thirsty. The horror of what they had witnessed had unnerved them, and they needed rest—even Gaelen of the Greatwood. She had neither wept nor truly lost her nerve until she came face to face with Finan. When he saw her, he knew of her need, placing his head over her shoulder so that she could embrace him.
She wept for the terrible sights she had seen, and for the suffering of those she could not help. Ulcas were known to eat their captives; certainly it was quite usual for them, but Gaelen had never known men to stoop to such measures. Neither she nor Estle would ever forget the cries of the children, or the sacrifice of Azok. Gaelen would view Azori and Estle with a more appreciative eye from that day on.
Finan stood patiently, waiting for Gaelen to finish weeping. She was quite unsteady, and she lay down upon the hard salt, sleeping for the first time in a long reckoning, as Finan stood over her.
At last they roused themselves, ate and drank, and mounted their horses. It would soon be dark, and their friends would be very worried by now. By the time they approached their own encampment, it was nearly dawn. Gaelen gave a warning-call that many in the Company would know; it would not do to come on them unaware.
By this time there was only one encampment, for all had joined together. Azori smiled as he beheld Galador sitting around the same small fire as the sole remaining easterner, whose name was Okami. They appeared to be getting to know one another, although it was unlikely that either would ever call the other “friend.”
Rogond was alarmed at the haggard faces before him. He embraced Gaelen, and she shed silent tears as he held her.
Azori’s men were understandably dismayed as he sat among them, shaking his head, a grim, haunted look in his eyes. They knew that their comrades would not return. Karatsu, it seemed, was not overly dismayed; he had already taken up with Okami, sitting placidly on his shoulder, occasionally fluffing his feathers against the chilly night air. Everyone sat in the circle, waiting for someone to begin the tale of what they had seen. At last, Azori spoke:
“We found the Scourge, and they are terrible.”
For the next several hours, Azori, Gaelen, and Estle tried to describe what they had seen. Hallagond held Estle, trying to comfort her, for she wept again at the mention of Azok.
Bint Raed wept in fear for her homeland. The butcher had mentioned the Silver City directly; it was obviously their goal. “Our citizens will have no notion of how to deal with such folk; they will try to reason with the Scourge, even as it camps on their doorstep and prepares to take the lives of all within. This enemy will have no use for knowledge and learning—they will loot the library of its golden treasures before burning it to the ground!”
Fima’s dread was evident in his weathered face, as he sat wheezing by the fire. The dust and salt had settled in his chest, and breathing was increasingly difficult. Rogond despaired, for he knew they were still many weeks away from anyone who could heal Fima, and that the environs would be unwholesome until then. The Company might well be grieving for the loss of its lore-master before long.
When the tale had been told, it was decided that the Company would move on as soon as all were rested. Bint Raed wrung her hands, stating that there was no time to waste. In the meantime, Azori’s men asked to hav
e a private parley with him. They talked for several hours, and their voices and faces were grave.
At dawn the Company prepared to continue the journey, rousing the dromadin and the horses. Azori approached Hallagond as he checked the seals on the water-casks. “My friend,” he said, “There’s something I must tell you, and a choice that you must make. My men do not wish to continue on this course, and neither do I.”
This surprised Hallagond, and he stopped his labor to turn and face his friend. “I do not make this choice lightly,” Azori continued, “but these lands have already surpassed any level of hardship that we expected, and we believe this enemy is far beyond your enlightened city. Neither I nor my men signed on for such a task. I have lived a hard life, and have witnessed great evils that men do unto men, but this was new to my experience. Having seen it, I do not wish to see any more.”
Hallagond’s dismay showed in his face. He would miss Azori as an ally, particularly his skill in battle. “Are you certain you will not come with us, and aid us? You may yet avenge your brother’s death,” he said.
Azori laughed. “You don’t understand, do you? This is an enemy far too powerful for you or me to exact vengeance upon. Do you know why I have lived as long as I have? Because I know when I’m outmatched. Why not come back with us? You will live longer.”
“I have sworn to aid the Company,” was the calm reply. “And I must protect Rogond. A man has only one brother, after all.”
Azori’s eyes darkened with grief as he spoke. “Yes, a man has only one brother. Azok and I have lived our lives thinking only of our own comfort. It’s too late for him to live an easy life, but I intend to, and I will ask Estle to return with me.”
“She will not go,” said Hallagond, “for she is bound by a similar promise. And once she gains the fortress of Dûn Arian, I doubt she will ever leave it. I would suggest you say your farewells.”
Azori nodded, for he knew that Hallagond was right. “Well, I’ll ask her all the same. You have sworn to protect her, Al-amand. Remember that. If I hear otherwise, I shall return and flay you alive!”
“I am not Al-amand anymore. My true name is Hallagond, and that means “Tall-stone”. I am forsaken no longer.”
“Well, then guard yourself, Tall-stone,” said Azori. “Take care of my sister, if you would stay alive.” He clapped Hallagond on the shoulder. “I must go now and speak with her,” he said, “but I expect to be disappointed.”
Azori left with his men a short while later. They decided to travel north to the coastal city of Fómor, where they would find welcome. Though it would be a long journey, once they reached the northern edge of the Salt there would be water at intervals along the way. They left the extra dromadin with the Company, taking only two with them. “Take them as a gift from me, and be glad,” said Azori, “for you will now have seven fewer men and eight fewer horses to provide with water. You are now much better provisioned for the rest of your journey.”
Estle wept when Azori departed, for she feared that she had seen the last of her brother. At least he would never need to face the Scourge. Given his self-serving nature, that would have asked far too much of him.
She took comfort in Hallagond and, strangely, in Gaelen. Their hearts had softened through shared trials, and although they would still poke and prod at one another with sharp words, there was no longer any malice behind them.
Gaelen rode beside Nelwyn, flanked by Galador and Rogond. Hallagond led the dromadin, riding beside Estle and Bint Raed. Fima still slumbered; he had become so accustomed to the motion of his dromadan that he often slept for hours while being carried. As a precaution, he used a sash to secure himself to the saddle.
The Company continued to make its way across the salt basin, knowing that it was even more important to reach the Citadel so that they might warn the people of the Scourge. Everyone hoped that there would be enough strength in Dûn Arian to prevail over the looming darkness. If not, they would all fall victim, and not one of them wanted to consider the horror that would be waiting if they did.
Chapter 19: TRIALS OF THE ROAD
Because they now had more water and provisions, the Company could travel faster and with more efficiency than before. They did not take the extra supplies for granted, because they knew that even a small unforeseen circumstance could drain their reserves quickly. Still, they saw no harm in allowing everyone to drink their fill at least once.
Rogond became ever more worried for Fima, who was now plagued by a deep cough that would not abate.
“It’s this accursed salt and dust,” Fima grumbled. “It will fade once we’re clear of this place. Bint Raed…how much farther is it across the Salt?”
She smiled up at him. “Only a few more days.”
“That’s what you said two days ago,” Fima muttered under his breath, wishing once again that he had never left Mountain-home.
Nelwyn rode up beside the dromadan that bore him. “Take heart, Fima Lore-master, and think of the reward at the end. This library is just waiting for your ready mind and eager hand. Think of it! You will be privy to secrets that no others of your people will have ever known… or my people, for that matter.”
Fima smiled down at her. “Ah, Nelwyn, you seem to know exactly the right words to lighten my heart. Even Lady Ordath may not know of the history of this realm. Just wait until I see her again, and tell her of it. Ha!” This last remark sent him into a fit of coughing that turned his face red and made his eyes water.
Gaelen drew Bint Raed aside. “Fima won’t last very much longer in this place. We should try to make better time.”
Bint Raed understood, but she could offer no reassurance. “We may escape the Salt, but the rest of the journey will tax him no less,” she said quietly. “The dust will remain. And we still must contend with the winds near the fire-mountains. At least he’s riding high on that dromadin; the dust is always worse nearer the ground.” She sighed, obviously worried. “I only hope I have not led you astray. If my path wasn’t well chosen, it might finish us all.”
Gaelen shrugged. “If that is so, then at least the Scourge is also on an ill-fated path. Maybe it will finish them, as well.” She smiled at Bint Raed. “Take courage. I’m certain you remember the lay of these lands better than you realize. I am not concerned.”
Three days later they reached the end of the Salt, and the lands that stretched before them seemed less forbidding. They were of a more familiar character, with rolling terrain and ground that was both rocky and sandy. A ridge of hills could be seen in the distance, and the Company was thrilled to see what looked like grey-green, brushy, gnarled shrubs dotting the landscape. Here and there they would find and collect the dead skeletons of those shrubs, which were covered with wicked, sharp thorns. Soon there would be enough to build fires at night against the cold. The air was still dusty, but it seemed clearer than that of the salt waste. Fima’s breathing appeared to be a little easier, though he still coughed far too often.
Gaelen had just spotted a depression in the sand some distance away when Finan dropped his head and made for it, ignoring her effort to bring him about. She allowed him his freedom, for she had learned that he was seldom diverted without cause. He slid down into the bottom of the depression and began to paw at the sand, bobbing his head, his long, black forelock waving in the dry breeze. Rogond had followed behind upon Eros, who snorted and tossed his head before sliding down after Finan, pawing right alongside him. The sand beneath their busy feet turned darker...it was wet! A few more minutes, and they were standing in water up to their ankles. “Do not let them drink until the sand has settled,” warned Rogond. “It will make them very ill otherwise. Hallagond has told me.”
Gaelen smiled at him. “Your brother is coming around nicely. He could have gone with Azori, but he chose to stay with you. He truly is a fine man, and you can be proud to claim him as your kinsman.”
“I don’t think he remains on my account. He stays for Estle.”
Gaelen laughed. “Then
it’s a good thing Estle wants to see the Silver City so badly, otherwise they might both have left with Azori.” She leaned forward, resting on Finan’s neck, stroking him. “I would say that Finan has earned an extra treat. There is enough water here that we may all clean ourselves, plus fill a few of our empty casks.”
It seemed their outlook had brightened, until Bint Raed rode up with Estle, looking in alarm at Gaelen and Rogond. “You haven’t let them drink, have you?”
“No…we are waiting for the sand to settle first,” said Gaelen, tightening her hold on Finan’s head-collar. “Why do you ask?”
“Come up out of there, both of you. That water is not safe!” Eros was reluctant to leave the water, for it felt wonderful on his tired legs, but he listened to Rogond. Finan squealed when Gaelen legged him back up to the level without so much as a sip.
“There are poisons that lie beneath the sands here,” said Bint Raed. “They leach into the water that rises from under the ground. You dare not drink of it, for over time it will kill both man and beast. I’m sorry I did not think to tell you this before, but I didn’t expect you to find water at all, and it just didn’t occur to me.” When she left to return to the caravan, Gaelen stood looking at Rogond for a moment. Then she turned her puzzled horse and cantered back to the group. Apparently she had decided to forego even washing in the poisoned waters, which was wise. Finan did not understand, and kept trying to turn back.
“Never mind, Finan; you deserve to be praised for finding the water, even though it’s unsafe. That isn’t your doing...it’s the fault of this horrible place! One day we will ride back to the Great Forest, and you will never want for water again.” She stroked his neck, turning to look rather wistfully back toward the northeast. “There are tall trees there, Finan, and wonderful plains of green grass where a horse may run for hours upon soft turf, and he will never go hungry, for the grass grows ever at his feet. You probably cannot even imagine such a place, can you my friend?” She took a deep breath. “Someday, I shall take you there.”